


Rock Bottom

by spiritoftruthandlies



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Multi, geological jargon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritoftruthandlies/pseuds/spiritoftruthandlies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire's parents refuse to pay for him to get a "worthless" degree in something like art, but they still expect him to go to college. He figures geology can't be so bad, especially since there's some drawing involved. Some art is better than none at all, right? Oh, and his randomly assigned roommate is the prettiest boy he's ever seen. This isn't a train wreck waiting to happen, or so Grantaire tries to assure himself of every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> This is largely based on my own experiences at Ohio State as a geology major, so it probably definitely won't match up to what things are like in France.
> 
> A big thank you to my beta, [Alyson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iFlail), and [Puck](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PuckB/pseuds/PuckB), who drew the amazing artwork for my fic [here](http://coldcigarettes.tumblr.com/post/145278788366/art-for-the-lesmis-bigbang-for-the-fic-rock).

_Son-_

_If you plan to pursue a major that will leave you jobless and penniless and living under this roof again, the way a degree in art surely will, we will not pay for your education or your housing. If, however, you choose to purse a more useful degree in a STEM field, we will gladly pay for everything. We have heard that many “artists” have found satisfaction in pursuing a degree in geology. There are plenty of jobs that pay geologists well. The choice is yours, but choose wisely._

_Mom and Dad_

He had found the note stuck on his door when he got home from school. He read it over and over again, hoping the words would change—would stop saying, _you’re on your own if you want an art degree_. It hurt to read the words. He loved art, was _passionate_ about it, and his teachers were always praising his work. They had excitedly helped him assemble a portfolio over the summer so he could jump on applications to schools he would surely be accepted to.

And all of that work would go to waste. All of his art show awards meant nothing. And all because his parents thought an art degree was useless. He knew he didn’t have a choice, not really. Paying his way through school would be absurd, and would probably take him twice as long to complete. His parents knew that too, so the suggestion that he had a choice in the matter was really just a nicety. If he was going to go to college, which his parents insisted he do, he would need their financial support. Which meant pursuing a STEM major.

Geology would have to do.

~

Grantaire dragged his suitcase up the stairs to the fourth floor and then down the hall to his new dorm room. He took out the key they had given him at the front desk, ready to open the door to the undoubtedly cramped space he would live in. But when he arrived, the door was already open and a boy with golden blond curls was moving about the room. Grantaire had to force himself not to just stand in the doorway and stare. He was _beautiful_.

The blond boy turned towards the door and started. “Oh! Are you my roommate?”

Grantaire blushed and looked anywhere but the boy in front of him. “I guess I am. I’m Grantaire.”

“Enjolras,” he introduced. “Come on in and get settled. I hope you’re okay with the right side of the room.”

“I really don’t care which side I have,” Grantaire confessed earnestly. He stepped into the room, dragging his suitcase after him.

“Oh good. I’ve already unpacked a lot of my stuff, so…”

Grantaire laughed suddenly and laid his suitcase down. “So you only asked to be polite?”

Enjolras flushed and was grateful Grantaire was turned away. “Something like that. I guess I’m lucky you’re joking about it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Grantaire opened his suitcase and started unpacking his things. The conversation stalled, leaving the room to be filled with nothing but the sound of footsteps and various drawers opening and closing. It didn’t take long for him to unpack – he had only brought his clothes and bedding, and figured he could buy whatever else he needed later. Enjolras, on the other hand, was still unpacking, and his side of the room looked much homier than Grantaire’s.

When Enjolras finally finished putting the last thing in its place, he broke the silence and asked, “Do you wanna go get dinner?”

Grantaire shifted in his bed, looking down at Enjolras from where he had settled after he finished unpacking. “I guess I am getting hungry.”

“Come on down then.” Enjolras was happy that Grantaire wanted to eat with him.

“Okay, okay.” He climbed down from his loft bed and tugged his shoes back on. “Where are we going?” He asked curiously.

“The dining hall, since we both have meal plans.”

“How romantic.” Grantaire immediately wondered if he went too far. He had only just met the guy, for fuck’s sake.

But Enjolras looked very flustered, and that made the joke worth it. Even more so when he cried indignantly, “This isn’t a date! I’m just being… _Responsible_ and making sure we eat! And if this was a date, I wouldn’t be so… so _cheap_ as to take you to the _dining hall_.”

Grantaire doubled over laughing. “Enjolras… Enjolras, _relax_. I was just teasing. Fuck, I know it’s not a date, because why on earth would anyone want to date me anyway? But that was so worth it for the look on your face,” he explained as he tried to catch his breath.

Enjolras frowned suddenly. “Why do you think no one would date you?”

Grantaire’s laughter grew more self-depreciating. “Have you _seen_ me? I’m not exactly drop-dead gorgeous, here.”

“Beauty standards are just another part of the white patriarchal norm. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder – it’s very subjective.” Enjolras argued stubbornly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say, oh mighty Apollo.”

Enjolras sighed. “Can we just drop it and go?”

“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.” Grantaire held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

Enjolras replied impatiently, “Let’s just go already.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Grantaire headed out the door and into the hall. Enjolras followed him out, shutting off the lights and closing the door behind him. They strolled silently down the hall and down the stairs to the ground floor.

The dining hall was attached to another dorm around the corner. They had to wait in an absurdly long line to pay with their meal plans before they finally split up to get whatever food they wanted, promising to meet up at a table shortly. Grantaire waited in the line to get a hamburger, which had to be the longest line in the place, and caught a glimpse of Enjolras bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently while he waited in a much shorter line that he thought might be for vegetarian options, but he wasn’t positive. Enjolras bouncing on the balls of his feet like that was cute, and he _really_ shouldn’t think that about his roommate.

It took awhile for them to get their food, since they had apparently both picked long lines, and then finding somewhere to sit proved just as difficult. They almost ended up sitting at the breakfast bar intended for people eating alone, but they managed to snag a small table shoved into a corner instead. Enjolras started eating almost as soon as they sat down, and Grantaire found himself wondering if he should try to strike up a conversation while they ate.

It wasn’t until they were nearly finished that he managed to find the courage to break the silence. “So, uh…” he began awkwardly, “what are you majoring in?”

Enjolras looked up and smiled at him. It nearly took Grantaire’s breath away. _Fuck._

“Political science. I’m also pre-law. You?”

Grantaire tried to sound at least indifferent about his major. “Geology.”

Enjolras gasped. “Really? That’s so cool! What are you going to specialize in? Climate science? That’s a really important thing you know, especially considering there are people denying climate change is happening.”

Grantaire was overwhelmed. Enjolras seemed openly excited about at _least_ one aspect of geology, and yet _he_ was the one majoring in it. He picked at the remains of his food and said off-handedly, “Oh, you know, I’m a freshman, so I’m not really sure where I’ll go with it yet. But I hear oil companies pay really well.”

Enjolras scowled. “You can’t be serious. They pay so well because they’re profiting off the destruction of our planet!”

He wasn’t sure how his roommate’s mood had managed to change so quickly or why he seemed to find it _offensive_ that he was considering working for an oil company. It wasn’t even his life! But he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into a fight with his roommate on day one either, so he held up his hands in surrender and said, “Look, it’s just something I’m considering. Nothing’s set in stone yet.”

Enjolras laughed suddenly. “I can’t believe you just said that! That was a great pun!”

There he went changing his mood again. Grantaire smiled nervously. “Uh, thanks?”

“I really think you should consider literally anything else though.”

“What, you mean like fracking or mining?” He had to admit, he only suggested it to see how Enjolras would react.

“No! Definitely not that. Maybe something that benefits people, like geothermal energy or water quality testing or predicting disasters.”

Grantaire answered hesitantly, “Maybe. It really depends on what I’m good at, which I probably won’t have an idea of for awhile yet.” He hoped Enjolras would think he was just talking about fields of geology, because he didn’t want to talk about how badly he wanted to drop everything in favor of art.

Thankfully, Enjolras seemed to understand it as hesitation about what field of geology to go into. “Fair enough.” He stood and gathered his dishes. “I’m gonna go get dessert. Want anything?”

“I don’t even know what they have. I didn’t look.”

“I remember cookies and chocolate cake”

“Cookies are fine.”

“Okay.” Enjolras smiled and left the table.

~

Enjolras was not a morning person. Grantaire had discovered this in a matter of days: Enjolras set his alarm for 6 every morning, but he was zombie-like until he got caffeine in his system. So really, they both should have expected Enjolras unthinkingly pulling back the curtain of the shower Grantaire was already in, standing nude under the spray of hot water.

They didn’t expect it. Enjolras shrieked and started apologizing profusely while Grantaire just stood there with his dick on display. Eventually, Enjolras pulled himself together enough to close the curtain (and his mouth) and find an open shower--incidentally right next to Grantaire’s.

Grantaire hesitantly called after him, “Enjolras? Are you okay? I hope I didn’t like… scar you for life or anything.”

Enjolras was glad for the privacy of his own stall since it meant no one could see the blush that bloomed fierce on his cheeks. “I’m fine!” His voice betrayed him, coming out a bit higher than usual.

“Are you sure? I… I know I’m not much to look at.”

“Oh my god,” he cried indignantly. “Grantaire, shut _up_! You haven’t scarred me for life and you are _not_ unpleasant to look at, okay?”

“Why Monsieur Enjolras,” Grantaire teased, “do you find me attractive?”

“I’m not answering that in here!”

“Look, I get it if you don’t.” His tone had lost all of its jest, and taken on a self-depreciating quality that broke Enjolras’ heart.

He sighed and said seriously, “We can talk about it when we get back to the room.”

There was a pause.

“Okay.” Grantaire sounded almost sad, his voice small.

Enjolras tried not to worry too much as he hurried to finish his shower. He pulled on his clothes for the day and all but ran back to the room. He hadn’t seen if Grantaire had left the bathroom yet. He let himself in and put his toiletries away. Grantaire came back to the room while he was drying his hair, and went about his business as if nothing had happened.

Enjolras finished drying his hair and put his hair dryer away. He sat down in his desk chair and broke the silence. “Grantaire?” He didn’t acknowledge him. “Grantaire, can we talk?”

Grantaire finally turned to him. “I guess.”

“I’m sorry for making things awkward. But this is something that should be between us, not us and anyone who happens to overhear.”

“You don’t want anyone to know you find me ugly.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I didn’t say that,” Enjolras said frustratedly. “I think you’re very attractive. Maybe not by society’s standards, but what does that matter? I think anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Grantaire snorted. “Do you really think that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

“I _am_ trying to make you feel better, but I would never lie to accomplish that.”

“Okay.” Grantaire smiled wryly. “I’m trying to convince myself that you really mean that.”

Enjolras looked at him sadly. “I don’t know what else to say to convince you that I mean it with every fiber of my being. You deserve happiness.”

“Thank you. I might not really believe it, but that helps, I think.” For a moment, they remained silent since Enjolras didn’t know what to say. Eventually he settled for changing the subject entirely.

“C’mon, we have to hurry if we want to actually sit and eat breakfast.” Enjolras joked, standing and slinging his backpack onto his shoulder. Grantaire waved him off.

“You can go on ahead without me. I still have some things to do.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later then.” He left for the dining hall without another word.

~

Enjolras sat at a table in the law building’s little café with his classmate, Courfeyrac. He had come here for breakfast instead of going to the dining hall near his dorm for fear of making things worse by running into Grantaire. He had been thinking about it since he left their dorm room; so much so, in fact, that he had literally collided with Courfeyrac on his way into the café. The olive-skinned boy was quite eager to know what had his classmate so distracted, and, on Enjolras’ request, had eagerly agreed to listen to the story over breakfast. Now Enjolras stared at his food, wondering if it had been a good idea to tell someone who was practically a stranger what had happened.

But Courfeyrac was not easily dissuaded.

“Earth to Enjolras. Are you gonna talk about it, or not? I think it would really help if you did. You know, get it off your chest sorta thing.”

Enjolras sighed and looked up, meeting Courfeyrac’s mischievous hazel eyes as he brushed stray blond curls from his own. His cheeks felt like they were on fire as he said, “I walked in on my roommate in the shower this morning.”

Courfeyrac barely contained his laughter. “Really? You just walked in on him? That’s not so bad, is it?” Enjolras glared at him.

“He thinks I find him ugly and that I’m only telling him otherwise to make him feel better.”

“Are you?”

“ _No_!” He cried much too quickly. “Well, _yes_ , I do want to make him feel better, but… I also _do_ think he’s really attractive.” He tried to hide his blushing face, but closing his eyes behind his hands only dredged up images of Grantaire, standing naked beneath a stream of water. He groaned miserably and dragged his hands down his face, reluctantly opening his eyes again.

“You’ve got it _bad_! A crush on your roommate!” Courfeyrac couldn’t help the teasing tone to his voice.

“I guess that’s what you’d call it… He’s so attractive and such a tease and— _god_ , he must hate me by now. I couldn’t tell him I find him attractive in the _bathroom_ , where anyone could hear.”

“Why not?” Courfeyrac, the asshole, looked like he wished he was eating a bucket of popcorn instead of biting into a bagel slathered with cream cheese and Nutella.

“I was still embarrassed about walking in on him,” Enjolras hissed. He ran a hand over his face. “And this whole crush business… it’s so new to me. It’s… disorienting.”

“Wait. Are you saying this is your first crush?” Courfeyrac squealed at Enjolras’ answering nod. “Oh my god! This is great! I don’t know what to do though—everyone else I know has already _had_ their first crush, like way back in primary school.”

Enjolras huffed. “Keep it down. You’re being ridiculous. Just… don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s so awkward. Grantaire’s my _roommate_. I’d hate for him to find out and then have to _see_ him all the time after that.”

“How could he possibly not like you? I mean, has he _seen_ you? You look like a _model_.”

“I know, but… I wouldn’t want it to just be skin-deep, you know?” Enjolras implored. Courfeyrac just shrugged.

“I think you should talk to him about it. Maybe not now, but at some point.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

~

Friday afternoon Enjolras returned from class to find Grantaire packing a bag. They had hardly spoken since the shower incident, and now it looked like… well, Enjolras hoped Grantaire hadn’t asked for a new room. He asked as casually as possible, “Going on a trip this weekend?”

Grantaire kept packing and replied, “Yeah. It’s a camping trip with geology club. I’ll be back Sunday.”

“Oh.” Enjolras paused as relief flooded through him. “I didn’t know you were even in geology club.”

“Yeah, I am. I heard they went on trips every so often, so I signed up.”

“It must be nice to have such a tight-knit department.”

“Kind of. Everyone knows everyone, so it feels a little hard to break into. But they do let anyone join geology club and go on the trips, so if you want to go on the next one…”

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll probably be too busy anyway.”

“Suit yourself. See you Sunday.” Grantaire shouldered his bag and left.

Enjolras called after him, “Have a good trip!”

~

They arrived late at night. Luckily, another group of students had left earlier and set up camp. Grantaire and the others gathered around the fire and started cooking burgers and hot dogs, passing around bottles of alcohol while they waited for the food to cook and while they ate. One of the students from the van sat down beside Grantaire and greeted, “Hey. I’m Bahorel.”

Grantaire took a swig of his drink and replied, “Grantaire, but you can call me R if you want.”

“Are you a geology major?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yep. I like climbing too, so I brought equipment to do some out here, if you want to join.”

“That sounds fun,” Grantaire admitted. “I haven’t done any rock climbing in years though.”

“We’ll take it easy then. Besides, I’m sure there are others here who are interested in trying it out and have zero experience. You’ve got a leg up on them.”

“Fair enough.” He finished his drink and set the bottle on the ground.

“I hear there’s a climbing center on campus too,” Bahorel pressed. “We could go regularly, if you’re interested.”

“I imagine it would help me get better. How much is it?” Grantaire asked warily.

Bahorel laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s covered by some fee or another we paid at the beginning of the semester!”

“Nice, no extra cost. I like that,” Grantaire laughed. “We could easily make it a regular thing.”

“You bet we will.”

Grantaire grinned and stood up. “You want anything to drink?”

“Another beer would be great.”

 “Alright. One beer, coming right up.” He went over to the coolers and fished out a couple bottles, not caring which kind he grabbed. He brought the drinks back to the log Bahorel was sitting on and passed him one.

~

Someone poked their head into Grantaire’s tent early the next morning and told him and the others to get up and get ready if they wanted breakfast before the hike. Grantaire groaned and swore at them for being so loud when he had a hangover, but they only cared enough to chuck a bottle of painkillers at him, which bounced off his shoulder and landed somewhere beside him. He slowly sat up and searched for the bottle, finding it with the help of one of his tent mates. He swallowed two pills dry and passed the bottle on to the next person. As his headache started to fade, he finally bothered to check his phone and swore again when it told him it was only 7 in the morning. For people who liked to drink so much, the geology club sure had no qualms with getting up excessively early.

Eventually Grantaire dragged himself out of his sleeping bag and put on his clothes for the day. He didn’t have hiking boots, but the exec board had assured him the trails would be easy enough to navigate in sneakers. He shoved a beanie on his curls despite the relatively warm weather – it gave the illusion that his hair wasn’t as messy as it really was. If it got hot enough to be annoying, he’d take it off.

Grantaire was the last to emerge from his tent. He grabbed a quick breakfast and threw some sandwiches together for lunch. He knew by the time they ate it would be warm and squished and probably the least appealing thing to eat, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. He threw them into his backpack and went to fill his water bottle. Not long after that, they all piled in the vans and headed to the lot nearest the trailhead. It was a short drive there, most of the van’s occupants chattering excitedly. Grantaire was fortunate enough to be able to lean against the window.

Bahorel, who had climbed in next to him, hit him in a way that he guessed was supposed to be playful, but missed the mark. “You look grumpy, R!”

He glared at his view out the window and muttered, “It’s too early for this.”

“Aw, come on! We’re going hiking!”

“I’d be in a better mood if we’d been allowed to sleep in… and if someone hadn’t barged into my tent and exacerbated my hangover.” Grantaire grumbled.

“You took painkillers, right?”

“Yeah. At least someone thought to pack some.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

Grantaire cried indignantly, “It’s the principle of it!”

Bahorel laughed and slung his arm around Grantaire’s shoulders. “You’ll live! Besides, the fresh air will help!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The vans pulled into the nearly empty lot and parked far away from the trailhead. There were only a couple of other cars present—a clear indication that either people couldn’t be assed to get up and hike this early, or the trail wasn’t very popular. Grantaire thought it was the former, because the weather was still nice enough that the camps were packed. They clambered out of the vans and headed across the parking lot to the trailhead, pausing to make sure they had everyone.

Once the leaders had counted everyone up, they set off on the trail. There had been multiple assurances that the hikes would be easy and that the pace would be slow enough that everyone could keep up. Even though Grantaire didn’t have any trouble keeping up, he was grateful for the pace. The upperclassmen chattered about the rocks they passed, stopping occasionally to point out their features to the underclassmen and non-majors.

They took a short break a couple of hours in and some people offered up snacks. Grantaire sat down and dug a sketchbook and a pencil out of his backpack. He started with a sketch of the group, sitting and standing off to the sides of the path under tall trees. He kept it simple and messy so he had enough time to sketch the landscape as well. They had stopped at a point where, off to the left and beyond the few trees, they had a view of an impressive gorge.

Grantaire outlined the gorge and trees in its foreground. After making a very rough sketch, he went back over it and cleaned it up as much as he could. He hadn’t thought to bring a pen so he could ink it, but he knew he probably wouldn’t like it as much the moment he inked it anyway.

When the break ended, Grantaire packed his sketchbook away and stood up, taking a moment to stretch before the hike began again. They continued to make their way along the trail, which soon became a tree-filled slope with a narrow cliff to the side. The trail was still wide enough for people to walk side-by-side if they wanted to, so no one was particularly worried about falling over the side. Grantaire took photos of the views on his phone to sketch later – which, considering the circumstances, would probably be never. But he could dream about it. He could dream about sitting on his loft bed, leaning back against the wall with his pillow behind him to make it more comfortable, and sketching the photos of the scenery. He could dream about buying canvases and paint and brushes and finding a studio and painting his favorite sketches. Maybe they’d be good enough to be displayed in a gallery.

He didn’t realize the group had stopped until he nearly ran into someone. The upperclassmen had decided they just _had_ to explain how a gorge like this was formed. Grantaire spent most of the time they were explaining trying to wrap his mind around the time frame of it all. The idea that something could take thousands or even millions of years to form was mind-boggling. He had heard professors say that it had something to do with the human concept of time. Sometimes it was hard for him to even wrap his mind around a single minute, let alone millions of years. He wondered how anyone else dealt with it. Did they just pretend that a million years wasn’t astronomical in human terms?

He kept pondering such things and attempting to wrap his mind around such large timescales until lunch. He sat beside Bahorel and dug out his awkwardly flattened sandwiches from the depths of his backpack. It was some sort of strange feat, he thought, that things like that always managed to wind up in the bottom of a bag, where they would surely get crushed.

Bahorel raised an eyebrow. “Are you high?”

“What? Fuck, did I say something weird out loud?”

Bahorel laughed. “You just mused about sandwiches winding up at the bottom of bags.”

“Oh. Well, no, I’m not high, believe it or not. I think I’m just thinking about things extra philosophically, I guess, because I was trying to wrap my mind around geological time scales. How do you deal with it?”

“So far I’ve just been ignoring the fact that the numbers are so massive. Makes everything a lot easier,” Bahorel shrugged.

Grantaire laughed. “Good advice.” He took a bite out of one of his sandwiches. “God, these things are terrible.”

“You know what I think the solution to the problem is?”

“What?”

“Tupperware. I mean, yeah, your food might still be warm unless you put it up against an ice pack or something, but a solid plastic container would keep it from getting flattened.”

“Yeah. Too bad I don’t have any handy. Plus, then you gotta remember to wash it out after every use. I think it’s more of a pain than a help.”

“Maybe. You gotta make sacrifices somewhere.”

Grantaire nodded sagely and continued eating his sandwich. When he finished one, he started on the other, and then he moved onto the bag of crushed chips he had tossed in to fill out the meal. He spent the rest of lunch chatting with Bahorel.

By the time they finally got back to camp, it was nearly dinnertime. Some of the upper classmen attempted to assign duties to everyone below them, but no one was really in the mood to play along. It took longer than necessary to collect enough kindling to get a fire going. At least cooking the food was a little bit more organized.

Like the night before, there was plenty of alcohol to be had. Grantaire made a valiant effort not to get so drunk, assuming that they would be woken up at an ungodly hour again. The morning would be just a little bit more tolerable if he didn’t have such a nasty hangover.

Alas, despite all of his efforts, Grantaire still had a headache in the morning. But when he finally could stand to look at the time on his phone, he discovered that it was actually a bit later in the morning than the day before. They were ordered to pack up and tear down the tents before the day’s short hike, and when they were done, they would go home.

Grantaire found teardown to be a lot of fun, although he wasn’t so great at folding the tent up. He left that to his more camping-savvy tent mates, who rolled up the tent and managed to get it back in its tiny bag. He helped out with tearing down a few other tents before he finally decided to find something to eat.

The short hike was boring compared to the hike the day before. The trail led up to a small waterfall, which they admired briefly before hurrying back to the vans. Grantaire slept the whole way back to campus.

They got back fairly late, and by the time the vans were unloaded and Grantaire was finally heading back to his dorm, he was half asleep again. He tried hard not to make a ton of noise as he walked through the silent hallways to his room.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the lights in his room were still on and Enjolras was awake when Grantaire opened the door of their room. Enjolras looked up at the sound of the door opening. “How’d it go?”

Grantaire closed the door as quietly as possible behind himself. “Alright. I met another freshman who’s pretty cool. Did you know geologists drink a lot?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Do they now? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, they drink tons. And then they wake up at the crack of dawn and go for a hike like it’s nothing. It’s absurd,” Grantaire whined.

“At least you know what to expect now.”

“Yeah. I mean, the hike itself wasn’t bad. The gorge is beautiful, and I got a lot of nice pictures. But I’ll show you those later. I’m pretty beat.”

“Alright. I’ll wrap up while you get ready for bed so we can turn the lights out.”

Grantaire nodded and dug through his bag for his pajamas. He didn’t even bother to slip into the closet to change; Enjolras’ attention was on his laptop anyway. He climbed up into his bed, too tired to do anything else. Grantaire wasn’t sure which happened first: him passing out or Enjolras finally turning off the lights.

~

Three or four weeks into the semester – Grantaire couldn’t be sure anymore how long he had been suffering through classes – Enjolras burst into their dorm room and yelled excitedly, “Grantaire, Grantaire! Guess What?”

Grantaire paused his music and pulled out his earbuds. He asked tiredly, “What?”

“I’m gonna start a club! An activism club!”

“Oh, good for you.” Grantaire tried and failed to keep his sarcasm to a minimum. “And what do you hope to accomplish with this activism club of yours?”

Enjolras answered patiently, “Change. Progress. A better world.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. Too many people just don’t care enough.”

“But there are people who _do_ care. And people who just need someone to help them find the courage to make change happen.”

Grantaire sighed. “I just don’t wanna see you crushed when things don’t work out.”

Enjolras got a look of fierce determination. “I won’t. If anything, I’ll be even more determined. So what do you say? Will you help me with this club?”

Grantaire stared at Enjolras like he had grown a second head. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, right.” Enjolras blushed and smiled sheepishly. “I got a little ahead of myself. So, my classmate, Courfeyrac, said he would help, but we need three officers and I don’t really know anyone else…”

“And you thought _I_ would be a good candidate to be an officer?” Grantaire asked incredulously.

“Well yeah. Courfeyrac can be treasurer, so you can be vice president. You’ll hardly have to do anything. Not even training!”

He groaned. “You really can’t ask literally anybody else on our floor?”

“I don’t _know_ anyone else on the floor. Please Grantaire, once the club gets going I can find someone else to fill the role.”

He sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to crush Enjolras’ dream, no matter how pointless he thought it was. Besides, he would probably never get to see Enjolras begging him for anything else... So he agreed reluctantly. “Okay, but you have to promise you’ll find a replacement as soon as the club gets more members.”

“I promise! Thank you so much!” Enjolras beamed at him and yeah, that made it worth his while too.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna ask you to help me with my algebra homework.”

“Again?” Enjolras looked incredulous.

“Yeah, I told you I’m no good at math.”

“I think you need a tutor. I mean, I’ll help you now, but I won’t always be able to. And anyway, a tutor knows their stuff better than I do.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” he groaned, “but how will I pay for it? I’ll never hear the end of it if I ask my parents to pay for a math tutor.”

Enjolras’ brow furrowed. “What if you said it was for chemistry or physics instead?”

“I don’t know if that would be any better.”

Enjolras reasoned, “That leaves you with getting a job to pay for it and spending as much time with free tutors as you can.”

“I’m so fucked. I’m gonna fail college algebra, and I need calculus 2 to get my degree! I’ll be in school forever!” Grantaire wailed, thudding his head down on his desk.

Enjolras awkwardly patted his back and tried hard to be reassuring. “I know it looks bad right now, but you’re gonna get through it. We should figure out how to get you a tutor soon. That should help your grade.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand how you have so much faith.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I just do.” He pulled his chair over to Grantaire’s desk. “Come on, let’s work on your algebra.”

~

Enjolras’ activism club – Les Amis de l’ABC, a name Grantaire helped him come up with since they both appreciated puns – started meeting after fall break. The club wasn’t technically associated with the university because of the bureaucratic nonsense of registration, but it hardly mattered. They met at a café not far off campus – Grantaire had suggested the place, and Courfeyrac happened to know nearly everyone who worked there.

The café looked small from the outside, another two-story building smashed between other two-story buildings. On the inside, it was spacious, extending back so that it’s length was longer than its width. The second floor was also part of the café. Les Amis de l’ABC had gone in for their first meeting assuming they would be shoving tables together in a corner on the first floor, but the manager, who introduced himself as Feuilly, led them to the more private second floor. Here, they didn’t feel the need to push tables together, because they were the only ones on the floor. It appeared to be something of a party room anyway, with large round tables and plenty of chairs.

The club hardly had any members at first, which upset Enjolras. But thanks to a strategic social media campaign run by Courfeyrac, they were soon drawing in dozens of people. There was, however, a core group especially dedicated to the cause. Among them were the club founders: Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire; Combeferre, a pre-med literature major who had relieved Grantaire of his position as vice president; Marius, Courfeyrac’s pre-law linguist roommate; Musichetta, one of the café’s baristas and a Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies major; Feuilly, the café’s manager and the club’s unofficial – as far as the university was concerned – treasurer; Jehan, an English major whom Courfeyrac had discovered at a poetry slam; Bahorel, the geology major who went climbing with Grantaire; Joly, one of Combeferre’s pre-med friends; and Bossuet, Joly’s boyfriend who hadn’t decided what he wanted to major in yet. The eleven of them became fast friends, forming a tight-knit inner circle inside and outside the club.

~

Enjolras met up with Combeferre and Courfeyrac for breakfast two days after the first Les Amis meeting. Enjolras handed them each copies of requirements for starting a club with annotations about their progress thus far.

 “So, the biggest things on our list are finding an advisor and going over the constitution I drafted so we can upload it for approval,” Enjolras explained.

 “Do you want to go over the constitution now?” Combeferre asked.

 “I think it’d be best to save it for after I address the other things on our list.”

 Courfeyrac cackled. “Of course there’s more with you!”

 Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Anyway. If we want university funding at any point in time, we need a bank account, among other things.”

 “They outlined the process in treasurer training. I’ll get on that, if we think we want it,” Courfeyrac said, still grinning. “Oh! And the bank account should be opened under the advisor’s name too—just in case anything weird happens.”

“Alright. Funds might be nice to have for printing flyers and such. Or if we ever decide to have an event.”

Combeferre nodded. “I think we should do it so it’s there if we want it.”

“I’ll get on it now before the semester starts getting out of control,” Courfeyrac declared, making a note to himself on his handout.

“Okay. Then there’s the question of if we want to hold our meetings on campus or not,” Enjolras said.

“I really like the Musain.”

“Me too,” Combeferre added, “and it’s close enough to campus that it shouldn’t be a problem for students to get there.”

“Okay, that’s settled. Any ideas for who to approach about being our advisor?”

Combeferre shrugged. Courfeyrac suggested, “Professor Lamarque?”

Enjolras replied hesitantly, “I thought of him too, but I think he already advises a lot of other clubs…”

Courfeyrac used his most encouraging voice. “Asking can’t hurt though. If he can’t do it, he might be able to direct you to someone who can.”

“That’s… true.” Enjolras bit his lip. “Okay. I’ll send him an email.”

“Good!” Courfeyrac grinned. “Now, anything else, or should we move on to the constitution?”

“We can move on to the constitution.” Enjolras pulled it up on his laptop. “Um, I guess we’ll have to squeeze together to see it… unless you want to take turns reading it?”

“I don’t mind squishing in!”

Combeferre smiled fondly at Courfeyrac’s enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

They arranged themselves so they could all see the laptop screen. They took their time reading through the document, making a few comments as they went. When they finished, Enjolras asked, “So? What do you think?”

“It’s very… thorough.” Combeferre said carefully.

“Does it need to be so long?” Courfeyrac mused bluntly. “I mean, we want our members to be able to read through it if they want to, right? I doubt many of them would have the time or patience to make it through this.”

“Oh, yeah,” Enjolras said, wringing his hands nervously. “I’m, ah, terrible at being concise.”

“That’s okay. I’ll make some edits if you send it to me.” Combeferre gave Enjolras’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Thanks.”

“No problem at all.”

“I hate to say it, but I’ve gotta skedaddle. Class calls.” Courfeyrac gave them both a hug before he hurried off, taking his coffee with him.

Enjolras sighed and began packing up his stuff.

Combeferre tucked his list into his bag. “Everything alright, Enjolras?”

“It’s nothing really. I’m just a little stressed out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed again and ran a hand through his blond curls. “On top of everything else I have going on, I’ve been helping Grantaire with his math homework. I don’t mind doing it, but I’m not sure how much it’s really helping. He needs a _proper_ tutor.”

“I could tutor him, if he wants the help. I’m pretty good at math,” Combeferre offered.

“Yeah?” Enjolras perked up. “Well, just talk to him about it. I don’t think he’d say no. Not with how much he’s struggling.”

“I’ll talk to him about it soon. And you try not to stress so much over other people’s problems. You already have plenty on your plate.”

“I know, but… it’s hard. I care too much,” he said sheepishly.

“I know you do. I’ve got to run, but I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“See you.” Enjolras watched as Combeferre left the café.

~

Combeferre approached Grantaire at the end of their next Les Amis meeting. He sat down beside him and murmured, “Enjolras mentioned you’re struggling with math?”

Grantaire laughed. “Struggling might be an understatement. Try failing.”

“I can help you, if you want.”

Grantaire hesitated. It would be so great to have a tutor, but he wasn’t sure if he could afford it. “How much would you charge me?”

Combeferre shook his head. “Nothing. It’s a chance to get to know you better too.”

“Fair enough. Just help me pass, please.” He hoped he didn’t sound like he was begging.

“That’s what I’m here for. To help you understand so you can pass.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me until you get your final grade back.”

“Alright.” Grantaire agreed. “You’ll probably have to tutor me more than just this semester.”

Combeferre joked, “Maybe I’ll have you pay me with coffee then.”

“Done.” Grantaire paused, then, “Wait. You were joking about that. But I gotta get all the way through calculus 2, and I’m only in college algebra now, so…”

Combeferre gently clapped Grantaire’s shoulder. “We’ll get you through it.”

“I hope so. At least Enjolras has been helping me with the homework.”

Combeferre smiled. “He’s a good roommate. Hopefully I can do more than just help you with the homework.” 

~ 

Grantaire decided it was a miracle when he got his grades for the semester back. He had already known he was doing fine in his other classes, but he was surprised to discover he had passed college algebra. Combeferre’s tutoring had paid off. He grinned and texted him:

**To Combeferre:** I passed!

**From Combeferre:** I knew you would.

**To Combeferre:** Thank you so much. Not just for the tutoring, but for having faith in me.

**From Combeferre:** No problem. We should celebrate.

**To Combeferre:** Who’s still in town?

**From Combeferre:** Courfeyrac left after his last final to go with his family to Hawaii. I’m pretty sure everyone else is still in town though, at least until just before Christmas.

**To Combeferre:** It’d be an impressive showing if everyone came, especially since it’s break.

**From Combeferre:** I’ll send out a group text. We can meet at the Musain.

**To Combeferre:** Sounds good.

~

They met up with the others at the Musain around dinnertime. They pushed some tables together until they had enough space for everyone. Feuilly was working, but he popped over occasionally to chat with everyone. They were all so proud of Grantaire for passing. He even felt proud of himself, despite knowing that his parents would surely tell him a C+ wasn’t good enough.

But his friends were a different story. Bahorel had brought a lot of alcohol, but no one was quite sure how he acquired it. Jehan brought flower crowns. Joly and Bossuet were excited that Grantaire had passed, even though it was a bit of a solemn day for Bossuet, who had failed a class. At least they now had a date with Musichetta, who kept saying “I told you so” about Grantaire passing. Even Courfeyrac, miles away in Majorca on vacation with his family, sent a congratulatory message on Facebook. Marius had stayed home sick – Joly was certain he had the plague – and Enjolras, well.

Enjolras was probably the proudest one there, even more so than Combeferre, who was most of the reason Grantaire had passed at all. But Enjolras was proud of more than Grantaire’s C+ in college algebra; he was proud of his grades in _all_ of his classes. Grantaire had no idea what to do with that, except fear that he would one day let him down. He’d let them _all_ down, because that was what he was: a letdown and a failure. It didn’t matter how many times he jokingly told Enjolras he would get a job with an oil company, or that some of those companies were working with green energy too. He doubted he’d get hired anyway.

He sighed and downed the rest of his drink. He quickly got another one and started drinking that too. He was definitely drinking his feelings away. He hoped his mood hadn’t changed enough to be noticeable to his friends. But they noticed. Of course they did. When he went to fill his glass yet again, Enjolras chided, “Grantaire, take it easy.”

Joly added before he could answer, “He meant to ask, are you okay?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That was very convincing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to try again so you can pretend everything’s okay?” Grantaire sneered at him.

“No,” Enjolras held his hands up defensively. “It’s just obvious something’s bugging you.”

“What if I don’t wanna talk about it?” Grantaire said childishly.

“Then just say so. Don’t be so hostile about it.”

Grantaire was silent for a long time, contemplating his glass. “I’m going to let you down someday.”

Enjolras frowned, but he still looked more severe than sad. “Why do you think that?”

“I always do. I’m a failure and a letdown. I barely passed college algebra and I have so much more math left.”

Enjolras answered with conviction, “You won’t let us down, even if you fail. And anyway, you might surprise yourself again.”

Grantaire smiled wryly. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why do you doubt yourself so much?” Enjolras asked in exasperation.

Grantaire realized then that perhaps Enjolras was deluded enough to think he actually had potential. He himself had been that naïve just a year ago. He took a swig of his drink and explained flippantly, “Probably because my own parents have always ridiculed me for my failures and have never been proud of my successes. They have no faith in me, so how could I possibly have faith in myself?” 

Enjolras sighed. “I didn’t know things were like that. But maybe we can inspire you to have faith in yourself. _We_ have faith in you.”

“I don’t know if it works like that, but thanks anyway.”

“We’ll work on it. And maybe you can make your parents proud by doing incredible things.”

“Maybe.”

~

Winter break inched by slowly, the days blurring into each other. Just before Christmas, everyone else headed home, but Grantaire stayed behind. He didn’t want to deal with his parents’ ridicule about his grades (and probably his life choices too). Enjolras had been the last to leave, and assured him he would be back before New Year’s.

Grantaire passed the days exploring the area around campus and beyond. He learned the streets and the shops, but it was too cold to talk to any of the people scurrying to their destinations. He did meet a few people when he hung out in cafes or bars or bookshops. He bought Enjolras a book—a recently published work on the French Revolution—even though they never agreed to get each other anything for the holidays. He hoped it would be okay that he had gotten him a gift.

But Enjolras returned not long after Christmas, a carefully wrapped present tucked under his arm. He put his suitcase over by his desk and took his coat off. He picked up the present again and went to the other side of the room. “Grantaire? I, um… I got you something.”

Grantaire sat up in bed. “You did?”

“Yeah. I saw this and thought of you.”

“Oh, that’s… That’s really nice. Hold on, I got you something too.” He clambered down out of bed and got his present for Enjolras out of his closet. Enjolras waited patiently for him to dig out the box. Grantaire emerged from his closet. “Okay. Here you are.”

They traded gifts. Enjolras smiled and asked, “Who’s opening first?”

“Let’s open them at the same time.”

“Okay.” They sat down on the floor, tearing into their gifts at the same time.

Grantaire gasped when the paper fell away. Inside was a dark green beanie and a book on climate change. “Thank you.”

Enjolras beamed. “I thought it might help you come up with some ideas for what to specialize in. Er, the book, that is. The beanie just reminded me of you.” He finished tearing his present open. “Oh! Where did you find this?”

“A bookshop off campus.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras smiled. “I know I’m going to enjoy reading it.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Grantaire put his new beanie on, smashing down his dark curls.

“That looks good on you!” Enjolras praised.

“You really think so?” Grantaire sounded shyly hesitant.

“Yeah. Can I take a picture? We can send it to our friends.”

“Um, sure… Do you wanna be in it too? We can show off the things we got each other.”

Enjolras’ face lit up. “Yeah! We can totally do that!” He shifted over to sit beside Grantaire. He took his phone out and held it up while Grantaire balanced the other side. They held up their books and snapped a few pictures. Then they flipped through them and argued over the best one before Enjolras sent the picture to their friends. It wasn’t long before his phone was buzzing with replies.

**From Courfeyrac:** OMG, you guys are so cute!

**From Jehan:** I second Courf.

**From Bahorel:** Are you two dating now?

**To Les Amis!:** No!

**From Courfeyrac:** Liar!

**From Joly:** That beanie looks great R!

**From Musichetta:** So cute!

**From Jehan:** Getting each other gifts is pretty romantic.

**To Les Amis!:** I have gifts for the rest of you too.

**From Combeferre:** That’s very thoughtful.

**From Jehan:** Still…

**To Les Amis!:** We’re REALLY not dating.

**From Courfeyrac:** That’s what they all say.

**From Joly:** Bossuet broke his phone again. But he says he hopes you two are having a good time.

**From Bahorel:** R, you’re really getting close to that geologist aesthetic.

**From Courfeyrac:** Who doesn’t love the lumberjack look?

**From Grantaire:** I’m going more for hipster artist, thanks.

**From Courfeyrac:** I bet Enj loves it anyway.

**From Combeferre:** Courf, drop it.

**To Les Amis!:** Yes, please. I don’t want to talk about this.

**From Courfeyrac:** Okay, sorry.

**From Joly:** So how’s everyone’s break been?

Enjolras muted his phone and put it away. He got up and started unpacking his suitcase. Grantaire looked up from his phone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Enjolras paused before elaborating, “I just wish our friends knew when to leave things alone.”

“Yeah, you’re right. They don’t really think about how their jokes affect us.”

“It can be a touchy subject.”

“I know.” Grantaire sighed. “Just – as long as you’re okay.”

Enjolras smiled just a little. “It’s nice that you care. And you thought of me and got me a present…”

Grantaire smiled back and reminded, “You thought of me too.”

Enjolras’ smile grew, but he ducked his head to try to hide it. “I did. I saw the beanie and thought ‘Grantaire would love this!’ But then I felt weird giving you just a beanie, so I got you the book too.”

“I appreciate it.” Grantaire decided to change the subject then. “Say, what do you think we oughta do about New Year’s?”

“Have another celebration with our friends, of course. I think Courf should be back by then.”

Grantaire nodded. “That’s what I was thinking too. Should we do the Musain again or somewhere else?”

Enjolras thought for a moment about their options. He suggested, “Musain, at least until midnight. Then we can consider meandering between places.”

“Sounds good.” Grantaire grinned.

“We should tell the others soon… maybe tomorrow though, when all this weird stuff has died down.” Enjolras looked rather uncomfortable about the whole thing.

“Whatever makes you comfortable. I really didn’t mean for that to happen.” Grantaire added hesitantly, “I guess I should grab some pretty rocks so I can say I got presents for everyone…”

“You only got something for me?”

Grantaire ran a hand through his hair and admitted sheepishly, “Yeah. It wasn’t planned or anything, just an impulsive ‘Enjolras would appreciate this.’ I just didn’t think to find things for everyone else. I thought it wouldn’t be weird because we’re roommates, so it could kind of be a thank you for a great semester of living together.”

“Oh. I guess that _does_ make me a little special, doesn’t it? But you don’t have to get something for everyone else. I just figured it would be nice to get everyone something because…” Enjolras paused before admitting, “I have a bit of a hard time making and keeping friends.”

“I kinda figured a little back when you asked me to help found Les Amis.”

Enjolras smiled a little. “Yeah. It’s honestly so incredible that I have so many friends.”

Grantaire said earnestly, “You are a pretty likable person, Enjolras.” 

Enjolras froze and stared at Grantaire. “Am I? I’ve been trying to figure out why I have so much trouble with _people_ …”

Grantaire did his best to explain, “Sometimes you come on strong. Most people don’t wanna bother talking about what’s wrong with the world. But creating an activism club was a fantastic idea, because now you’ve found so many people who _love_ talking about changing the world.”

Enjolras asked skeptically, “You think they’re gonna stay?”

“Yeah. I’m terribly cynical, but it’s so obvious they like you a lot. So don’t feel obligated to get us stuff to keep us around. We’ll stick around anyway.”

“Well, it’s already done. But… I do appreciate all of you.”

“You should tell the others that. They’d love to hear it.”

Enjolras nodded. “I’ll do that. Do you want to get dinner after I finish unpacking?”

“Yeah. Dining hall again?”

Enjolras laughed. “You know me so well.”

~

Grantaire welcomed in the New Year with all his friends. Marius had brought a guest, a petite Korean girl who had dyed streaks of blue in her black hair. Her name was Cosette, and she was intensely passionate about intersectional feminism. She was an instant hit with Les Amis, who eagerly welcomed her into the group. Marius had been so anxious about how things would go, but in the end it was all fine. Cosette got on with his friends wonderfully.

After midnight, when they had moved on from the Musain, Cosette was sitting on a stool beside Grantaire at the bar. She smiled when he turned his head to look at her and asked him softly, “How’s your night been?”

He raised his glass of beer off the counter in a sort of salute. “Alright enough.”

“I know we’ve only just met, but… if there’s something on your mind you want to talk about, I’ll listen.”

“That’s sweet of you, but unless you want me to sit here rambling all night, I should keep it to myself,” he said sardonically.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Okay, then. The short version is my parents are dicks and I hate myself. This time of year is rough on me.” He took a large gulp of beer and set his glass down on the bar.

“Well, you have a lot of people here who will gladly help you through it.”

“I know. It’s just… hard to accept their help when I feel like I don’t deserve it. They’re incredible, and I’m just me.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Is this alright?” She waited for his nod of consent before she continued, “I’ve only just met you, but I already can tell you’re an incredible person and a great friend.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just have faith.”

He joked, “God, you’re so much like Enjolras with his unshakeable _faith_. Are you sure you’re not related?”

She giggled. “I’m positive. We look nothing alike.”

“You never know! Stranger things have happened!”

She playfully shoved him. “You’re ridiculous. It’s unlikely we’re even _cousins_.”

He laughed. “You’re probably right. But you two do have so much faith. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around.”

“It’s not so easy to maintain that faith either. But just like Enjolras, I refuse to let failures get me down and I just keep trying.”

“I think I believe in him. He’s sparked this tiny flame of hope in me. I’m worried it might get snuffed out though.”

“I don’t know if it’s reassuring to you, but I doubt Enjolras will change any time soon. And he has faith in you. I was talking with him earlier, and he mentioned you had passed your math class. He said you doubted that you could pull it off, but he was sure you could with the right help.”

Grantaire smiled and ducked his head. “He’s incredible. He helped me out at first, and then Combeferre offered to tutor me. I would’ve never pulled it off without them.”

“Yes, but neither of them took the exams for you. So that was all you.”

He downed the rest of his beer, his smile fading. “I’m under no illusions that I’m going to be able to pull that off again. They’ll be so disappointed when I inevitably let them down.”

“I don’t think they will. I think they’ll encourage you to try again.”

“Only time will tell.”

~ 

There were only a few days between New Year’s and the start of the new semester. Grantaire bought his textbooks and met with Combeferre to compare schedules and find time for tutoring. Almost ironically, they were in chemistry together this semester, along with Joly and Bahorel. Grantaire was already _fairly_ sure he would need help with chemistry too, especially since he had dropped high school chemistry in favor of a much simpler science. And he already knew from upperclassmen in geology club that it was a brutal weed-out class. He was sure the semester would be rough.

The new semester began with the same routine as the one before. Each class began with the syllabus and accompanying introduction. In trigonometry and chemistry, they ran through the syllabus quickly before starting the first lesson, unlike the other classes that lingered on the syllabus, making sure it was well understood before proceeding.

Grantaire had gotten quite the kick out of the lab safety video show in the first session of chemistry lab. The video was immediately succeeded by Joly taking lab safety way too seriously for a lab that was nothing but measuring water so students could familiarize themselves with the equipment. Joly reported it to the TA when Grantaire spilled water all over the table and himself. The TA _almost_ made Grantaire demonstrate the use of the safety shower until Combeferre interceded, pointing out, “Water will do nothing to counter dihydrogen monoxide!”

The class had erupted into laughter, and Bahorel had bemoaned, “R’s gonna die of exposure to dihydrogen monoxide!”

Grantaire deadpanned, “Oh no. Woe is me.”

At least Enjolras enjoyed the story when Grantaire recounted it later.

Barely two weeks into the semester, Grantaire was already seeking help with writing up chemistry labs and what the hell was going on in lectures. He attended every class and tried so hard not to give in to the urge to just doodle and zone out. The material was difficult enough without the iffy explanations given by professor and TAs alike. Combeferre and Joly did their best to help Grantaire through it, but he already felt like a lost cause.

His only reprieve, Greek Mythology, was turning out to be just as boring as the earth history class he had to take for his major. At least he knew the material well enough to try and make class more interesting through discussion. And then he could write his term paper on just about anything he wanted, so that was something too.

Les Amis became increasingly active in the new semester. Early on, they set up shop in the student union, pestering other students for signatures on petitions. As winter’s icy grip loosened and gave way to spring, they moved their activities onto the quad. There were petitions and protests and meetings with administrators. But Grantaire didn’t know about these things from active participation. He heard about it from Enjolras, day in and day out, and if that wasn’t enough, he heard about it at meetings too. Grantaire was still a realist about things (Enjolras had once bitterly called him a cynic and apologized later, in the privacy of their dorm room), but he was secretly proud of Enjolras and Les Amis. He celebrated every success and mourned every failure with them, because they were his friends. And every time they had a new idea for a cause, he reminded them of the mentality of the apathetic masses.

At one of their meetings, Enjolras announced, his voice unusually soft, “Trans Day of Visibility is next month, and I’d really like to get out on the quad and raise some awareness for that. I know it’s not particularly fair of me since we didn’t do anything for bi or ace visibility last semester… But I apologize for that and promise we _will_ do something next year, now that we’re an established group.”

Jehan beamed. “That sounds brilliant, Enjolras!”

He smiled shyly. “Thank you. Does anyone have anything they want to add?”

Grantaire asked, “Are you sure it’s safe to do something like that on the quad?”

“Everything comes with a risk. I can only trust that we won’t have to pay a high price for peacefully handing out pamphlets.”

“Look, I’m not trans,” Grantaire said, and he swore he saw one of the others wince, “but I’ve heard people can be particularly awful towards trans people. I would hate for something to happen.”

Enjolras glared, but it didn’t possess all of its usual strength. “Well _I am_ trans, so I know from experience what people can be like. I’ve been harassed because I don’t pass well enough. People will be douchebags, but I’m not about to let that stop me. So many people lash out because they don’t understand, and education is the _key_ to understanding. Yes, pamphlets are only the first step, and _yes_ , people might not read them, or might even throw them away. But it’s worth it to try to make that first step towards universal understanding.”

The room was so silent; you could hear a pin drop. Grantaire gaped at Enjolras, horror and shock written on his face. After a moment that felt much too long, he said, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to back you into a corner like that.”

Incredibly, Enjolras managed to maintain his composure. “Yes, well, we can’t all be perfect. It’s not a big deal anyway; I know it’s safe to be out here. I’m not sure why I didn’t say anything before.”

“You weren’t ready yet. You needed to come out in your own time and I—”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said with more force than before, “Drop it. Please. Hanging on it like that makes me really uncomfortable. You’ve apologized, so let’s move on.”

“Okay. I’ll drop it.” Grantaire still sounded apologetic.

Enjolras sighed and got the meeting back on track. If Grantaire remained quieter than usual for the rest of the meeting, no one mentioned it.

~

Just before the start of finals, Courfeyrac announced that he was hosting an end of the year party at one of the frat houses. He wanted everyone to be there, so it was scheduled immediately after exams finished. Enjolras wasn’t really into going, but it would be the last time he saw his friends before next fall, so he had resigned himself to attending. Everyone else was excited and looking forward to it.

Enjolras remembered why he hadn’t wanted to come to the party within seconds of arriving. He was promptly handed a shot glass of an unknown, likely alcoholic liquid. He tried to say he didn’t want it, but the stranger who handed it to him wouldn’t take it back. He stood in the foyer, just out of the way of the door with shot full glass in hand, until Courfeyrac found him there.

Courfeyrac beamed and shouted, “Enjolras, you’re here! Cheers!” He clinked his own shot glass against Enjolras’ and then twined their arms together so they gave each other their shots. It was all but impossible to not drink the shot. He grimaced as it burned down his throat. It only got worse from there.

Courfeyrac talked Enjolras into drink after drink until they were drunk enough to forget that there was still more alcohol to be had. Enjolras decided to seek out Grantaire then – he hadn’t seen his roommate since left to go climbing with Bahorel. He found him out on the front porch, a beer in one hand. Enjolras went over and leaned against the railing beside him and greeted, “Hey, R.”

Grantaire looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Hey, yourself. What’d you come out here for?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Really now?” He took a swig of his beer, keeping his eye on Enjolras. Grantaire watched the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed nervously. “What for?”

Enjolras swayed drunkenly into him. “I missed you.”

He set his bottle on top of the thick concrete railing and wrapped an arm around Enjolras to hold him up. “You did? I thought you’d be relieved to have the room to yourself.”

Enjolras said earnestly, “I like talking to you. Have I ever told you how gorgeous I think you are?”

Enjolras said earnestly, “I like talking to you. Have I ever told you how gorgeous I think you are?”

Grantaire shook his head. “I’m not gorgeous, Enjolras, but you are.”

Enjolras pouted. “You are too. I’ve never seen anyone I thought was more gorgeous than you.”

“Maybe you just haven’t seen them yet.”

He frowned and cupped Grantaire’s face in his hands. “That won’t change the fact that I think you’re gorgeous.” 

Grantaire stared at him, hardly able to breathe, let alone form thoughts and sentences. “Enjolras…”

Enjolras surged forward and kissed him, not caring that Grantaire was too shocked to kiss back. But eventually he got over his surprise and fears and kissed back, trailing his hands down around Enjolras’ waist as he drew him closer. Enjolras hummed contentedly and slid his fingers into Grantaire’s dark curls. Grantaire pushed him back against the wall of the house and deepened the kiss, licking and biting the blond’s lips until he opened his mouth.

It was all going so well—until Enjolras suddenly shoved Grantaire hard enough to send him stumbling back and darted over to lean over the railing. He was only upset about being pushed away for a second, because it immediately became apparent why when he heard the familiar sound of retching. It was like a slap to the face – a cruel reminder that Enjolras was drunk and that this wouldn’t have happened otherwise. Grantaire left the party alone.

~

Grantaire woke up on the floor with a sore back and a pounding headache. He staggered to his feet and found his painkillers. He took two and sat down at his desk with his head in his hands, waiting for them to kick in. Enjolras hadn’t returned last night, but Grantaire hoped he was with friends. He would text around later.

When his headache finally dulled, he went about packing his things. His parents would be here later in the afternoon to take him home for the summer. He really wasn’t looking forward to it, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He took a break to text Combeferre.

**To Combeferre:** Is Enjolras with you?

**From Combeferre:** Yeah, he crashed here.

**To Combeferre:** Okay. I wanted to make sure.

**From Combeferre:** What happened last night? Enjolras was pretty upset.

**To Combeferre:** I don’t wanna talk about it. It’s not really my place, especially if he isn’t talking about it either.

**From Combeferre:** I won’t push then. But I do worry.

**To Combeferre:** I know. Thanks. Just make sure Enjolras is okay.

**From Combeferre:** I will. He’s still sleeping right now – he was pretty drunk.

Grantaire turned off his phone. He hadn’t needed a reminder that Enjolras had been drunk. He already knew that was the only reason they made out, even if it hadn’t lasted long. They were friends, at best, but Enjolras had become closer with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. If Enjolras remembered what happened and told him it was just a drunken mistake, he would have to roll with it, no matter how much it hurt.

Grantaire’s parents picked him up before Enjolras returned from Combeferre’s. He hoped he wasn’t avoiding him and was still just dealing with a hangover. He decided not to ask about it.

~

In the fall, Grantaire moved into an apartment with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta. He hadn’t heard from Enjolras all summer, but Grantaire hadn’t tried to contact _him_ either. He wondered if they were just going to pretend the end of the year party never happened. He hoped he hadn’t fucked things up between them, even though Enjolras had been the one to initiate the kiss.

Grantaire had caved over the summer and bought a green hammock. He used it for much of the summer, escaping to it in his parents’ backyard or else taking it with him to set it up at a park when he needed to get away. He had packed it up with his things when he left his parents’ house at the end of the summer, and used it quite frequently in the interim between when he moved in and when classes started. He intended to shove it away in his closet once classes started, but instead it remained out, a constant temptation.

~

Grantaire didn’t see Enjolras until the first Les Amis meeting of the semester. He sat at a table in the back unnoticed. Enjolras was engaged in conversation with a group of newcomers. Joly and Bossuet came over and sat by him.

Joly patted his shoulder. “You look… sullen. What’s on your mind, R?”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m worried Enjolras and I are growing apart.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I haven’t talked to him recently. Not since the end of the year party.”

Bossuet asked, “Did something happen that night?”

He sighed and explained, “It’s probably not my place to tell you this, but goddamn, I can’t keep it in forever. Enjolras got pretty drunk at the party, and for some reason he sought me out and… and _kissed_ me. I guess this is all my fault because I didn’t push him away… I chose to kiss him back. It might’ve gone further if he hadn’t broken away and vomited when he did.”

Joly frowned. “I think you really need to talk to him about it. At the very least, you can pass it off as a drunken escapade, but neither of you should be letting this go so far as to impact your friendship.”

“I can’t,” Grantaire said desperately. “If he wants to pretend it never happened, I’ll play along. It’s fine. We were probably bound to grow apart anyway, now that we aren’t living on top of each other anymore.” Grantaire sighed. “I need a drink.” He rose from the table and stalked over to the bar. Joly looked solemnly after him.

~

Grantaire spent every minute he could out on the quad in his hammock. He frequently forgot to go to class or to eat, but he did manage to get plenty of sleep. Bahorel was kind enough to give him notes from the classes they shared and usually dragged him in for labs. And if he passed Grantaire in his hammock on his way to the geology building to work on a lab outside of class time, he’d stop and ask, “Want to come work on the lab with me?”

Grantaire’s answer was always the same, “Nah, I’ll work on it later.”

It was hardly an issue in mineralogy since lab was focused on identifying and describing minerals—hardly very time consuming. But when the class switched over to petrology halfway through the semester, every week would find Grantaire lamenting in the lab the night before the lab was due. He would often stay there the whole night, laboring away and praying he’d get things right.

~

“I have come to the conclusion,” Grantaire began one night when he was in the lab with Bahorel. He almost sounded drunk despite not having any alcohol, “that doing petrology labs would be far more enjoyable stoned.”

Bahorel chuckled. “You’re probably right about that. Something about all these colorful minerals under cross-polar light just screams _acid trip_.”

“It would be even more thrilling if you just sat there, stoned out of your mind and staring down the microscope and just spun the stage around and around and around.” Grantaire drew little circles in the air with his finger.

Bahorel wondered aloud, “I wonder if anyone’s ever done that.”

“The real question would be why hasn’t _everyone_ done that?”

Bahorel shrugged. “Beats me.”

Grantaire mused, “Do you think if I took tons of pictures of the thin sections and submitted them to a gallery they’d get in?”

Bahorel hardly thought about it before answering, “Maybe. I mean, they _are_ pretty stunning.”

“I’m gonna try it,” Grantaire said decisively. “Well, not right now. I should take the pictures with a better camera than the one on my phone.”

“For sure. But it might be harder to take the pictures with a professional camera, you know?” Bahorel imagined Grantaire trying to take pictures with a big, fancy camera and tried not to laugh at the mental image. It was already frustrating enough to take pictures of thin sections with a phone.

“Ugh. Maybe I can just… find a way to use the camera function on a teaching microscope?” Grantaire looked to the front of the room, where the teaching microscope sat on the desk beside the computer.

“Or else edit the fuck out of your phone pictures.”

Grantaire shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

Bahorel tried to hide his genuine concern under a light tone. “Just don’t let it distract you from actually getting your work done.”

“Hey now, don’t be mean. I’ll definitely use some of the photos I take in my lab write-ups. So it won’t be a total waste of time.” Grantaire grinned, feeling rather satisfied with his cleverness.

Bahorel gave him a bemused smile. “Whatever you say.”  

“Okay, come look at this,” Grantaire said, changing the subject, “I can’t figure out what the fuck is going on here.”

Bahorel sighed and slid his chair over to take a look at Grantaire’s sample. “Huh. I think this sample may be altered. Do you know how old it is?”

“No. What should I do about it?”

“Make a note of it, obviously.”

“Right, of course. Can you help me identify the alteration minerals?”

“I think that’s bordering on cheating, R. See if any of the books can help you.”

Grantaire let out a long-suffering sigh and turned his attention to the books, praying he could find likely candidates for the secondary minerals. Eventually, he couldn’t stand it any longer, and got up and went over to the counter to try his hand at identifying the hand samples.

Grantaire picked up an unknown sample inanely labelled 3. He held the sample aloft and stared pensively at it. Some of the minerals glittered in the fluorescent light of the classroom. All he could tell for sure was that there were three main colors: salmon, a weird almost-clear-almost-off-white color, and black. He stared at the rock only a moment longer before declaring to the room at large, “It’s a fucking rock! _What more do you want?_ ” and slamming sample 3 back down on the table.

Bahorel laughed. “You’re not wrong! But you can make a particularly corny pun with that one and your name.”

Grantaire turned to him, confused. “What?”

Bahorel clapped his hand over his mouth and slowly dragged it down his chin. “Now _that_ really is cheating. I shouldn’t have said that, but consider it a hint.”

“Right. How could I possibly make a pun out of my name and a _rock_?”

“You’ll see.”

~ 

“So,” Enjolras began, bringing the meeting to order with a bang of his fist on the table, “in just over a month, what may be one of the biggest climate summits of our lives will take place in Paris. My current plan leading up to the summit is to gather signatures on two petitions to deliver them to the government. One petition demands that big oil and other climate damaging groups be denied a place at the negotiation table. The other demands a comprehensive climate action plan, beyond just ‘reduce our carbon footprint by 2050.’ As usual, I am open to suggestions for improvements or additional actions.”

Grantaire snorted. “Why bother? Even if you get _thousands_ of signatures, they won’t really turn the oil companies away. And why should they? The oil companies are dabbling in clean energy, after all. It’s just not entirely profitable yet.”

Enjolras glared. “Don’t you care about the environment? About climate change?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Probably no more than the average person. People are more concerned with their day-to-day lives than with all this big picture stuff. They figure somebody else is working on it.”

Enjolras pointed out, “That doesn’t mean they can’t still help out.”

“But why would they want to?”

 “To make the world better for their kids and grandkids, at the very least.”

“Do you really think they’d care enough? Even in that case, I doubt it.” Grantaire didn’t look the least bit doubtful; in fact, he looked so sure of himself.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “It’s not like they’d be risking much just signing a simple petition. There’s nothing to lose.”

“And nothing to immediately gain either. It’s so easy to ignore a petition. It’s just a bunch of names on paper.” Grantaire almost sounded like he was just being contradictory, but it was still getting under Enjolras’ skin.

“Why are you always like this? You could do so many _incredible_ things, especially if you were a scientist pushing for a climate action plan.” He sounded so exasperated. 

“Why are you _always_ pestering me about that?!” Grantaire’s voice had risen to a shout. “I get that you care about the environment a lot, so why don’t you become an environmental lawyer or something and just leave me alone?! I’m _sick_ of being told what to do with my life!” He stormed out amid protests from his friends.

Enjolras stared after him. “Sorry for trying to help…”

~

Enjolras didn’t see Grantaire after the argument. The change wasn’t noticeable at first, since they hardly saw each other anyway. But after a couple of missed meetings and excuses for missing every gathering of their friends in between, Enjolras began to think Grantaire was avoiding him. It was hard to be totally sure, since Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta didn’t talk about Grantaire, at least not when Enjolras was around. Bahorel was hardly around too, and when he did show up, he bitched about his classes, so it could be that Grantaire was just busy. Whatever it was, Enjolras was upset. He knew he needed to apologize, but he couldn’t be sure approaching Grantaire was the best idea at the moment.

~

“Grantaire is looking into dropping out,” Enjolras overheard Bahorel saying one afternoon.

Enjolras frowned and went over to Bahorel and the others. He asked incredulously, “Grantaire wants to drop out?”

Bahorel answered almost nonchalantly, “Yeah. He doesn’t really have any other options.”

“What about changing his major or- or double majoring?” Enjolras was so confused. He hadn’t thought Grantaire had wanted to drop out or anything. He wasn’t sure what had brought this on either. Was it their fight?

Bahorel explained, “He barely passed his major classes last semester, and he’ll probably fail this semester. His parents won’t pay for college if he majors in something they consider useless, which is why he can’t just switch to art.”

He sighed. “And financing a degree in art on his own is a terrible idea. He’d be in debt for the rest of his life.”

“Exactly. So his only option is to drop out.”

Enjolras thought for a little while before suggesting, “He could try to get into law school after undergrad.”

Bahorel laughed. “He’d make a terrible lawyer, and you know it.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cynical. What will he do if he drops out?” Enjolras was so worried about Grantaire.

Bahorel shrugged. “Work. Whatever jobs he can get. He’s lucky his rent is fairly low because he lives with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta.”

“At least that’s something. I hope the job search goes well.” Enjolras hoped he sounded genuine in his well-wishing.

“Don’t we all.”  

~

Dropping out proved harder than Grantaire had thought. He had to dig around on the university’s website to even find out how to do it. And the information he did find just said “talk to your advisor,” which was really code for “explain more things to your advisor than you really want to.” His only other option was to just… not show up anymore and not register for more classes. Surely they would get the memo eventually.

He chose to text Combeferre for advice, because in his opinion, Combeferre gave the best advice and ( _probably_ ) wouldn’t judge him for his choices.

**To Combeferre:** Should I talk to my advisor and drop out formally or just quit without another word?

**From Combeferre:** Doing it informally probably involves less paperwork. But maybe you can get some of your money back if you do it formally.

**To Combeferre:** That might lessen the blow of telling my parents I dropped out, even though I’m sure they’ll tell me they saw this coming anyway.

**From Combeferre:** Exactly, definitely lessen the blow a bit. It would also benefit you if you ever take reenroll anywhere else.

**To Combeferre:** Yeah, if I can ever afford it.

**From Combeferre:** Still, I think it’ll be better for you if you do it officially.

**To Combeferre:** How do I explain why I’m dropping out without telling my advisor that it’s basically because my parents are assholes?

**From Combeferre:** Tell them you’re dropping out because of personal reasons. That’s most likely going to keep them from asking more questions. Unless you want them pushing you to apply for scholarships and student loans.

**To Combeferre:** The odds are stacked against me on the scholarship front, and I’d rather not be in debt for the rest of my life, thank you very much. Personal reasons it is.

**From Combeferre:** Alright. Make an appointment with your advisor.

**To Combeferre:** I will.

Reluctantly, Grantaire made the appointment with his advisor.  He was lucky to be able to get in by the end of the week to go through with the drop out process. And then he was free.

Which meant he needed to find a job or two (or three, whatever it took to pay the bills).

~

Not long after Grantaire dropped out, he got a call from a gallery. They wanted to show his photos of thin sections. They would pay him for allowing them to display them, and he’d get 90% of the money from each piece that sold. He agreed to it without hesitation because he really needed the money now (he hadn’t before – he had submitted the photos as a joke, not expecting anything to come of it). But it was definitely a blessing. It would at least relieve some of the pressure of needing to find a job.

The gallery planned an opening event and asked Grantaire to be there. He only bothered to tell Bahorel about it, since he had been there when he’d had the idea to take photos of the thin sections anyway. Grantaire wore the nicest clothes he had to the gallery opening. He felt a little underdressed in his miraculously paint-free black jeans and forest green button-down shirt, even though most of the people coming into the gallery were casually dressed. He supposed it had something to do with wanting to make a good impression.

He got so many questions about the photos since they seemed so abstract to most visitors. He did his best to explain thin sections and how petrographic microscopes work. Bahorel showed up halfway through the event and started jokingly identifying minerals and textures in the photos. Grantaire wanted to strangle him for reminding him of all the time he spent in the lab struggling to do the same thing. It was a miracle he had even passed, even though his grade had been on the low end of passing. But that was exactly why he had dropped out – he didn’t understand geology at all. But he _could_ produce incredible drawings of lab specimens, outcrops, and the like, if he did say so himself.

~ 

Grantaire had drawn it in a sketchbook he dug out of a box of art supplies shoved deep in the recesses of his closet. That had been the day after the fight, when he was dealing with a nasty hangover, and the sketch had gone forgotten afterwards. But now that he had some money from the gallery, the idea came back to him, and since he had dropped out, he would have time to work on it. He had to search for several hours to find the sketchbook again, but when he finally did, he flipped it to the latest drawing. He stared at it, doing his best to assure himself that this was what he wanted to do (even if part of him was sure it would be a waste, overall).

He went outside and got several cardboard boxes out of the recycling dumpster behind his building and dragged them back upstairs. He dug his x-acto knife out of his art supply box and got to work making cutouts in the cardboard, redrawing the original in his sketchbook, and then taking the x-acto to it. The whole process took all day, so going to the art store would have to wait.

Grantaire went to the art store the next afternoon. It took him hours to decide on the colors for the mural. He went as far as asking an employee for color advice, because he had never used spray paint before. Thankfully, the employee was knowledgeable on the subject and helped him figure out what colors to use and how to blend them to get every shade he wanted. He used some of the money he made from his photos in the gallery to buy his supplies.

He went from the art store over to Bahorel’s apartment, which he shared with several others from the geology department. He rang the doorbell and didn’t have to wait long before someone answered.

It wasn’t Bahorel, so he asked, “Hey, is Bahorel around?”

Bahorel’s roommate nodded, and Grantaire felt a little awful about the fact that he had already forgotten their name despite being in class with them all last semester. “Yeah, I think he’s in his room.”

“Thanks.” He hefted the bag of spray paint cans and headed for Bahorel’s room. He walked right in without knocking. “Bahorel, hey!”

Bahorel grumbled and sat up in bed, sending a glare Grantaire’s way. “Fuck off, R. I was up all night finishing a cross section.”

Grantaire laughed. “Thank fuck I dropped out! But really, I need your help.”

Bahorel groaned, realizing he wasn’t going to get back to sleep until his friend was finished talking, so he reluctantly played along. “My help? With what?”

“A mural.”

“That’s totally out of my realm of knowledge.”

Grantaire grimaced. “Er, let me clarify. It’s graffiti. I just need you to be the lookout.”

“Oh, _that_ I can do. Are you getting anyone else to help out?”

“Maybe Joly and Musichetta. Not Bossuet. I mean, he’s a great friend, but I don’t want things to go horribly wrong, you know?”

“I get that. We’re gonna try to avoid getting arrested, yeah?”

“Exactly. Anyway, does tonight work, or would you rather do it tomorrow night?”

“I guess tonight’s fine… if you let me sleep now.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll text you.” Grantaire finally left and went home.

With help from his friends, Grantaire was able to complete his mural in one night. Bahorel almost took a picture of it, but Joly was quick to remind him that a photo at this hour could be evidence against them – he could take one during the day if he was so desperate, and besides, the lighting would be much better then. They dumped the cardboard cutouts and the spray paint cans in a dumpster on the other side of the Seine and headed home to wash up and go to bed.

~

Enjolras was in a rush to get to class the next morning, when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He stopped and retraced his steps to get a look at what it was. There was a white, windowless building set back a ways from its neighbors, but that wasn’t what had caught his eye. It was the gorgeous mural painted on the side of the building, which he was sure he hadn’t noticed before today.

He approached the building see it up close, even though the mural was large and meant to be seen from a distance. It depicted an iceberg adrift in the ocean with a number of polar bears crammed atop it, their faces somehow managing to look hopeless. In the darkening sky were clouds spelling out “SOS.” And in the bottom right-hand corner was a small, almost unnoticeable “R.” He admired the painting a little longer before he turned and headed back to the sidewalk, where he froze once again. There, across the street, was the venue for the climate summit which would start in a few days’ time.

Enjolras ran the whole way to Grantaire’s apartment. He didn’t care about missing class anymore, or being stared at by strangers—not when he had more important things to do. He took the stairs in the building two at a time, nearly falling more than once. All of the adrenaline rushed out of his body when he reached Grantaire’s door, replaced suddenly by doubt. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. How would Grantaire take this?

He didn’t have the chance to gather his courage or change his mind and leave. Instead, Grantaire suddenly opened his door and started. “Enjolras? What are you doing here?”

“I, um…” He bit his lip and racked his brain for the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. “I saw a mural on the side of a building, and it… oh, this is stupid, but there was a tiny little R in the corner, so I thought it was your work since R is your nickname.”

“Oh, that.” Grantaire smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess you could call it the best of both worlds? Your ideals and my art.”

Enjolras continued earnestly, “It’s _beautiful_. I love it _so much_ and so many people will see it! You’ve got to do more!”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It took a long time and it’s risky to keep doing things like that.”

Enjolras deflated, his excited smile replaced with a frown. “Oh. But it’s so incredible.”

Grantaire explained impatiently, “And if I get in trouble for it, I’ll have a hard time getting a job. It was just a one-time thing.”

Enjolras asked hopefully, “What about posters and flyers? For Les Amis?”

He sighed. “I can do that when I have time. You can’t rely on me always being available though. I’ve gotta pay for everything now.”

“That’s still something. I… I miss you, Grantaire. You haven’t been to the meetings lately.” He managed to actually look sad for a change.

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m not a student anymore. And I’ve been applying for jobs and interviewing all the time. I haven’t had the time to come to the meetings. But… once I’ve sorted everything out, I’ll come when I can.”

“You’re not still mad at me then?” That hopeful tone was back, and Grantaire was terrified of crushing it. 

He laughed bitterly. “No. I haven’t been mad at you since the whole blow out thing. Which, by the way, I owe you an apology for.”

Enjolras shook his head. “It’s fine, I forgive you. I think I deserved that, a little. I was being such a horrible friend, pushing you all the time. I should’ve listened to you the first time and just left it alone.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I wasted my parents’ money for over two years pursuing a degree in something I didn’t give a rat’s ass about, let alone understand. Now I’m a college drop-out, like they probably always feared I’d be.” Grantaire sounded so uncaring about the whole thing.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. The whole idea that your only option is to go to college and get a degree is nothing but a social construct.” It seemed like they were back to their old selves now.

He laughed hysterically. “The entire _job market_ is molded around that ‘social construct’. I can’t get a job that pays well without a bachelor’s degree, at the very least.”

Enjolras sighed. “I know. It’s bullshit that the system’s set up that way. I want to change it.”

Grantaire said doubtfully, “I doubt it’ll change for the better in our lifetimes, even if whatever actions you take are successful. Change is slow, and the people who benefit from the way things are will resist it.”

“There are more people who will benefit from the change.”

Grantaire reasoned, “Yeah, but those same people are too afraid of the consequences to challenge the status quo. That’s why things still are the way they are. And the people who aren’t afraid don’t care enough to do anything.”

“You’ll see. One day things will be different.” Grantaire swore he could see fire in Enjolras’ eyes. His passion was just stunning.

Grantaire shook his head. “I’m amazed at how you manage to maintain your faith in your ideals and your passion. It’s like bad things don’t faze you.”

Enjolras explained, “Because in this business, what you would call a failure I call a learning opportunity. We see where we went wrong and try again with renewed vigor. We don’t just roll over and give up because things didn’t work out the way we wanted them to the first time. We persist, until our voices are heard.”

He replied earnestly, “I want you to succeed, I really do. I just get caught up in the harsh realities of the world… but I believe in you, Enjolras.”

“I believe in you too.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire ran a hand through his dark curls and smiled stupidly at the floor for a moment before suddenly remembering why he had opened the door in the first place. “Look, I gotta run down and check the mail,” He hesitated before suggesting, “but if you want, you can hang around.”

He smiled. “I’d like that. I’ll get a pot of coffee going for us.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to put a glossary of geologic jargon down here, but I've already forgotten most of the words I used... so feel free to come hit me up on [tumblr](http://graniteaire.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Glossary of what I do remember:  
> [thin sections](https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1366&bih=643&q=thin+section&oq=thin+section&gs_l=img.3..0l10.265.3365.0.3715.14.12.1.1.2.0.189.1345.5j6.11.0....0...1ac.1.64.img..2.12.1218...0i5i30j0i24.1z1cuAXPzOQ)  
> secondary minerals - minerals formed after initial formation of a rock  
> [granite](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d4/Rocks_-_Alkali_feldspar_granite.JPG) \- not always kitchen counter "granite"


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